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jbiixii-blog · 7 years ago

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The Storm

Mumbai is a crazy city… I like to refer it to that drug-addicted boyfriend that you get addicted to… he drives you mad with his weird ways, but you know you cant live without him… although he has a few more things on that list.

At first, this city seems like trashcan dirt everywhere and too many people. But what’s crazier about this city is how it makes way for new budding love… how it magically opens up doors that lead to supposed heavens for part-time lovebirds…

So here he was in this big city that had no time… and rolling down the window of his jus shipped Santro to ask for directions, he realized this.

The Bose were playing “yeh dil tum bin kahin lagta nahin hum kya karein”

The breeze and the legendary voice made him calm down. The fragrance of the first rains was overwhelming… the land had just lost her virginity touched by the raindrops, one by on. Oozing the scent of a chaste love that had waited for, an eternity, for her prayers to be answered by her deity

Ohh how it made him want to go back… back to the Saraswati puja days …

The rain had cast a spell on the land, and the breeze that carried her fragrance was casting her spell on him… The wind grew stronger and the lighting, threating to strike his life, almost interrupting his thoughts… there she was.. Walking towards him… seeing through him… with a goddess like an aura around her look touched his heart as if blessed by the goddess of love… She was a princess righteous enough to step down and live the life the people of her kingdom lived… naïve she was… for the closer the moon gets to earth it only shines brighter… she stood there in front of him looking down… strands of black silk teasing her cheeks. He wanted to, at that moment be rooted to that spot like an old Banyan tree that wanted nothing more than to see her each day for the rest of his life… As if she possessed this universe she pulled everything towards her. How could a mere leaf resist this goddess? She was unaware of her power, if she attempted she could unite the leaf with its soul, instead, she left it at its feet as if trying not to imbalance the design of the creator. He wanted to shed all his leaves and be a barren banyan, she would maybe then notice him, attend to him, caress him, see him… even if those eyes were filled with pity, he didn’t care, it worth losing everything for that one look. At least for that moment in eternity, he could only see himself in them, no matter in what form, only he would consume those eyes. Those eyes, those dove-shaped hazelnut whirlpools that could mesmerize you to die happily. If they looked at you for you, they could bring you peace. If they looked at you, wanting you, they could create another Mahabharata. But only if they looked at you… how he wished they did… And those lips.. Drawn to perfection, shaped to dissolve, so soft that they could slide dreams in your sleep yet so tiny as if pinch full of essential species… the nose of royalty would only be tamed by the nose ring of a king nonetheless. That king, he knew, was yet to arrive. The Brow, that was his goal, he wanted to mark his identity there on that middle parting, in red. That would be his victory and his end.

As if challenging this storm that was forming up within him, the lightning struck and tried to jolt him to reality…The princess was getting on the BEST bus and going away from him. He wanted to follow her, ask her to stop the pretense and take her rightful place in his kingdom as his queen. His heart told him to run, run as far away as possible from this storm that had unsettled his life.

“Tumhi kehdo ab aye jaane wafa hum kya karein” ….

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